


Locked Out

by padalelli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Language, Light Angst, Mentions of non-con, it's not an AU exactly but it strays from canon a little bit, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padalelli/pseuds/padalelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester’s arrival to West End High School sparked a confusion in the entire class. <i>Why would someone transfer so late into high school? Was something wrong with him? Did he get kicked out of his other schools?</i> But the single person that never engaged in the petty gossip about why he had arrived was you. Because you shut yourself out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> teen!Sam!

**October, 2000**  
Life at West End High School was hell. It hadn’t always been, but it was now. College stress was kicking in, parents were cracking down with the guilt trips, and your friends might as well have thrown you into the garbage. So you shut yourself out. Away from everything, ignoring what you could for however long you needed to gather yourself together and pick yourself up again. Not everyone understood, but that didn’t mean you gave a shit. 

**November 1st, 2000**  
Sam Winchester’s arrival to WEHS sparked a confusion in the entire class. _Why would someone transfer so late into high school? Was something wrong with him? Did he get kicked out of his other schools?_ But the single person that never engaged in the petty gossip about why he had arrived was you. Because you shut yourself out. 

**November 3rd, 2000**  
You sat in the hall during lunch, leaned up against your locker, nose in your sketchbook. You were so focused on the pencil dragging across the page that you hadn’t heard the footsteps approach, nor did you notice when the person sat down next to you, criss-cross applesauce- until they said something. “What’re you doing?” an unexpectedly deep voice asked.  
Your head jerked up and your shoulders spasmed, startled by the sudden noise. You looked over to the owner of the voice, who was sitting closer than you thought. “What are _you_ doing?” you retorted.  
“I just saw you sitting in the hall by yourself, that’s all. I figured I’d keep you company,” Sam said.  
“Thanks for the consideration, but I really didn’t want any company,” you replied, looking back down at your sketchbook.  
“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, but he didn’t leave.  
“What?” you snapped after a while.  
“Nothing. You never said I couldn’t sit next to you,” Sam told you.  
“Do you not know how to take a hint?” you replied. Sam raised his eyebrows. “When I said I didn’t want any company, that was me saying I don’t want you to sit next to me.”  
“Why are you always alone?” Sam said bluntly.  
“Because I want to be. Will you leave me alone now?” you answered. He looked away, nodded, stood up, and went into the cafeteria. 

**November 6th, 2000**  
You were in your AP Government class, not paying attention, drawing instead, as usual. Until you heard the word ‘project’. Your head snapped up, full attention on your teacher. He was assigning a policy project as your semester exam since he wasn’t required to give you an official exam since it was an AP course. You listened intently to the components of the project and the grading rubric. Just because you shut yourself away from most things didn’t mean you were a bad student.  
Your teacher had just finished explaining the project when the bell to sound the end of the period rang. You gathered your backpack and slung it over one shoulder, walking with a quick pace towards your next class. A gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks, and you turned around to face the body attached to the hand. Of course it was Sam. Somehow that didn’t surprise you. “What?” you asked, looking up at him.  
“Oh, I, uh… I just wanted to ask if maybe you’d wanna team up for the policy project with me?” Sam asked, removing his hand from your shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck.  
“I was planning on doing it independently, why?” you inquired.  
“Well, the um, the rubric said you could either complete it individually or do it with a partner, and I thought that maybe…” he trailed off and you raised your eyebrows, prompting him to go on. He chuckled, looking away nervously. “Since we’re the only two in this class that know what the fuck is going on, we could team up and ruin everyone’s lives,” he finished.  
The corner of your mouth twitched up in a smile that you tried to hold back. You looked down and put on a straight face again. “I like the way you think, Winchester,” you said. “Sounds like you got yourself a deal.” You held your hand out for him to shake and he hesitantly took it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, in class?” you asked. He nodded. “Cool,” you said before turning and going to your next class. 

**November 7th, 2000**  
“So I’m thinking since there are ten components between the two of us and we have five weeks to finish the project, we each do five components, and we can have weekly meetings or something so that we can see what all the other is doing, plus we’ll have our in-class project time to work together, and that way it’ll… Sam, are you listening to a word I’m saying?” You looked up at him from your agenda.  
“What? No, yeah I’m listening. We both take half the workload and meet weekly so our project will be cohesive,” he replied.  
“Yeah… yeah, that’s what I was about to say. The thing about the project being cohesive,” you mumbled.  
“Okay, well now that we have a plan, do you maybe just wanna talk?” Sam proposed.  
“About what?” you asked.  
“You. What kind of music do you listen to?”  
“Um… Death Cab for Cutie… Coldplay… Snow Patrol… I don’t know, why?”  
“Just wondering,” he said, smiling.  
Very aware of the way he was looking at you, you looked down at yourself and the oversized t-shirt you wore with your ripped skinny jeans and converse. It was a very eighties look, and you were pretty much the only person in the school that had it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked after a few minutes.  
“I’m just trying to figure you out,” he answered.  
“And what is there to figure out?” you prompted.  
“Why you’re always alone. Why you’re so quiet. Why you spend so much time in that sketchbook of yours…”  
“Why does it matter?”  
“I just want you to let me in, [Y/N],” Sam told you.  
“Who said I was shutting you out?”

 **November 10th, 2000**  
You sat with Sam at the kitchen table, all of your research for the project splayed out in front of you. “I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “We’ve been staring at this crap for almost two hours, I think this is enough for the day. We’ve still got the rest of the weekend to work on it.” You leaned back in your chair.  
“Okay,” Sam agreed. “Hey, where are your parents?”  
“It’s just me and my mom. And she doesn’t get home until six usually,” you told him. “Hey, do you want something to eat? I know it’s getting towards dinner time.”  
“Oh no, I’m fine,” Sam replied.  
“Okay,” you said.  
“Are you not gonna make anything for yourself?” Sam asked.  
“Not hungry,” you told him.  
“But you haven’t eaten since lunch,” Sam said.  
“Neither have you,” you retorted. “Okay, well, since we’re done studying do you want me to drive you home?” you offered.  
“No thanks, I don’t live far, I’ll catch the bus.”  
“Okay. I’ll see you Monday then?” You got up and walked him to the door.  
It wasn’t until he got outside that he turned to face you. “Will you go out with me this weekend?” he blurted out.  
“Sam…” you started. “Sam, we’re about to go to college, and I just…”  
“No, I’m sorry I asked. I shouldn’t have asked. I should’ve thought about that,” he rambled. “Okay, well, I’ll see you Monday,” he said, walking down the steps and down the street, his hands in his pockets.  
You closed the door behind him and leaned against it, sliding down until you hit the ground. You sighed and hated yourself for doing what you just did. Letting him in. 

**December 8th, 2000**  
“That’s it! We’re done!” You held your arms in the air in victory.  
“We still have to present it, [Y/N],” Sam pointed out.  
You dropped your hands and poked him. “You need to shut up. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done. No more stressing.”  
Sam chuckled. “As long as you’re not worried about the presentation…”  
“I’m not. We’ve got this,” you said smugly. “Like you said, we are the only two in the class that know what the fuck is going on.”  
Sam snickered and looked down, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that,” he mumbled.  
You looked over at the digital clock on the oven. “Shit, it’s seven o’clock!”  
Sam glanced in the same direction. “Yeah, I guess time flies,” he said.  
“No, it’s seven o’clock. My mom should’ve been home an hour ago!” you nearly shouted. _“Shit shit shit shit.”_ You got up and ran to the landline phone.  
“Hey, don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine,” Sam tried to comfort you.  
You dialled your mom’s phone number, your free hand gripping the doorframe to the kitchen. After three rings with still no answer you screamed, “Dammit!” and hit the wall. It rang three more times and you were sent to voicemail. You called again, but rather than ringing, you got the signature three-beep tone that told you the number was out of service range. You dropped the phone and fell to your knees.  
“What? What happened?” Sam asked, kneeling down next to you.  
You tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back tears. “She’s in the hospital,” you whimpered.  
“What makes you say that?” Sam asked.  
“Her phone isn’t dead, it’s just out of service range,” you choked out. “The only place she could be is in the hospital.”  
“Let me take you there, give me your car keys-”  
“Don’t bother. She’s probably-” you cut yourself off. “I don’t wanna see her however she probably is right now,” you admitted.  
“[Y/N], please just tell me what’s going on,” Sam begged.  
You shook your head and he pulled you into his arms. Normally you would’ve shoved him away, but you just fell limp and used him as support. 

**December 20th, 2000**  
You sat on the roof of your now empty house. Your mom had been in the hospital ever since that night. You only knew for sure because they called you a couple of hours later. You told them you couldn’t come see her, and fortunately, the nurse you were on the phone with understood. But Sam didn’t. And you couldn’t blame him for not understanding because you refused to tell him what was going on. That your mom had been sick, and you’d only known about it since October. That that was why you shut everything out. It wasn’t as if you were a ray of sunshine before; you were still pretty isolated, but learning about your mom’s sickness had only made it worse. You even began to shut her out. You shut everyone out and kept to yourself because you knew that if you didn’t, people would tell you that you shouldn’t be acting this way after learning your mom was sick. People would tell you that you should spend more time with her. But the truth was that you didn’t want to see her get worse. You wanted to preserve the few good memories of her that you had. And you knew that no one would understand that. You heard the distant sound of knocking, and you stood up and went over to the front side of the house. You looked down and saw Sam. “Up here,” you said.  
He looked around before his eyes met yours. He noticed that they were pink and puffy and not nearly as alive as they had been right before you found out about your mom. “Hey,” he said. “Will you come down for a minute?” You shook your head. “Listen, I know you’ve been really down lately, but um… just come down, okay?”  
You sighed and climbed down the front side of your house, dropping a few inches to land on the porch. “What’s going on, Sam?” you asked, annoyed. Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of assorted envelopes. “Is that my mail?” you asked.  
Sam smiled. “Yeah.” He picked out a large envelope that had ‘CPC’ in the top lefthand corner.  
Your eyes widened and you almost ripped it from his hands, sliding your finger under the tab and opening it. You pulled out a thick, orange folder and opened it, finding a piece of paper folded into three. You quickly pulled it out and dropped the folder, opening up the piece of paper, your eyes frantically scanning it. “Oh my god,” you whispered.  
Sam smiled. “Well?” he asked.  
You looked up at him before looking back down and grabbing the folder, sifting through it. When you found another single piece of paper, you pulled it out and looked at it, too. “Oh my god!” you exclaimed, putting your hand over your mouth.  
“Are you planning on telling me, or…?”  
You looked back up at him. “I got a full ride to Cogswell!” you shrieked, hugging him tightly for you don’t know what reason.  
Sam wrapped his arms around you in return. “I didn’t even know that’s where you wanted to go,” he murmured.  
You let go of him. “You never asked,” you said, shrugging. “Besides, why does it matter?”  
Sam snickered. “Because I’m going to Stanford,” he told you.  
“Wait, you mean… you mean we’re both going to…”  
“We’re both moving two thousand miles away, yeah,” Sam said. “Would you reconsider going out with me now?” he asked.  
You bit your lip and crossed your arms. “Sam, I’m not the kind of girl you want to go out with,” you said quietly.  
“Why don’t you let me decide for myself?” Sam asked. You looked past him, not at anything in particular. “Why won’t you just let me in, [Y/N]?”  
“Because I’ve already let you in, Sam.”  
“What?” Sam whispered. You knew precisely why he was so confused. It was because to him, your wall was still up. But to you, he had gotten closer to breaking that wall than anyone else ever had. And that scared the shit out of you. To you, the wall was cracked. But to him you had just reinforced it with steel bars.  
“Sam, you… I’ve never let anyone… You’re closer to me than… anyone else. And honestly, I don’t know how I feel about it,” you admitted.  
“I haven’t even scratched the surface of ‘close to you’, [Y/N].”  
“I know,” you mumbled. “That’s my point.”  
Sam glanced down and reached forward to take your hand, but you flinched away. “Who was it? What did they do to you?” Sam asked, thinking he finally understood just from that one little flinch.  
“No one, nothing,” you lied.  
“[Y/N], that’s bullshit. If something happened to you… you need to say something about it.”  
“Don’t worry about me, Sam.” You took your mail and backed away, shutting the door on Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stress this enough: IF YOU DON'T COMMENT, I CAN'T KEEP WRITING.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 21st, 2000**  
You were in your living room, watching TV, when you heard a knock on the door. You went over and looked out the window, seeing that it was Sam who stood on your porch. You immediately walked back over to the couch and resumed watching your program. “[Y/N], you’re _literally_ not letting me in!” Sam yelled.  
“Go figure,” you yelled back. Suddenly the door was open and Sam still stood on the porch. “Did you just pick my lock?” you asked.  
“Yeah, but I’m not coming in unless you let me,” he said.  
“So first you rummage through my mail and then you pick the lock on my door? Should I be pressing charges?” Sam snickered. “I’m serious, Sam.”  
“Will you let me in?”  
“Why don’t I just come out there?” you replied.  
“Okay,” he said, not pressing his luck.  
You got up and went outside, closing the door behind you. You sat down on the steps of the porch to your house, patting the cement beside you. Sam took a seat next to you and looked at you. “What’s this about, Sam?”  
“I wanted to apologize,” he told you. “I guess I was out of line last night.”  
“Well, you weren’t wrong,” you mumbled. “Something did happen to me. A couple of years ago. And I never said anything. And I’ve had nightmares about it ever since.”  
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Sam asked gently.  
You shook your head and looked down. “No.”  
“Okay.”

 **December 24th, 2000**  
The now routine knock on your door caught you off guard tonight. “Sam, it’s Christmas Eve, what are you doing here?” you asked, poking your head out of your door.  
“I don’t really celebrate Christmas. Plus I’ve been coming over for the past four nights in a row, I figured why stop now?” he said.  
You sighed. “Come inside,” you said, opening the door wider. 

**December 31st, 2000**  
“Alright, I’ve got Ritz and ginger ale,” you told Sam, coming back into your living room.  
“Ah, the dinner of champions,” Sam chuckled as you sat down on the couch next to him.  
“Well excuse me for not having anything other than nonperishables,” you sassed. “Besides, why are you always over here? Don’t your parents get mad that you don’t spend any time with them?”  
Sam looked down. “My mom died when I was a baby. And my dad… well, he’s not exactly father of the year,” Sam told you.  
“Well, he must be proud of you for getting a full ride to Stanford,” you prompted.  
“You mean the same way your mom is proud of you for getting a full ride to Cogswell?”  
“You haven’t told him…”  
Sam nodded. “He would be beyond pissed.”  
“Why?” you asked.  
Sam shook his head. “Nah, I’m not telling you about all my crap until you tell me about yours.”  
“My crap is a lot darker than you think, Sam,” you murmured.  
“Yeah, well, so is mine,” he mumbled.  
“Fine, then we don’t have to tell each other anything. So you can drop it now.”  
“Okay.”  
You put your feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch. Sam picked up the remote and turned the TV on to the New Year’s Eve party. “You know, this is the only reason I hate being in the Central time zone. It’s eleven o’clock here, but in New York it’s already 2001. It’s stupid, is what it is,” you said.  
Sam chuckled. “We still got one more hour to go until 2001 over here,” he murmured.  
You hadn’t noticed, but at some point before you said anything, Sam had slipped his arm around your shoulder. _You sly dog,_ you thought. But you were surprisingly okay with it. You didn’t want to twitch away from his touch or anything. A feeling you hadn’t had in over two years. “I’ll tell you what happened to me,” you said quietly. Sam turned to look at you and you leaned into him, hoping it would be easier to avoid his gaze. You took a deep breath. “I had this ex-boyfriend… sort of. I didn’t really like him, but he… he pressured me into being in a relationship with him… and I was scared… so I did it. And he hurt me- not physically, but emotionally. He was just really emotionally manipulative… and he accused me of being emotionally manipulative… and my friends weren’t supportive at all, I mean they had no reason to like him, but they didn’t help me either… He just… he kept wanting to get more and more intimate, and I wasn’t comfortable with it… I was scared to say no, so I just let him go as far as he wanted and I…” Tears began to gather at your eyes. “I didn’t realize he didn’t have that much power over me…” You tried to choke it back. “Then I found out he tried to get with some other girl and I broke things off with him. But I still had to see him at school. And I started having nightmares about…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. By now you were a bawling mess. Sam pulled you closer and held you tight. “I’ve shut everyone out ever since,” you cried. “But then you came along and I tried so hard to shut you out too, but I just couldn’t.” You breathed deeply. “And it scared me so much, Sam,” you whimpered.  
Sam pulled you onto his lap and stroked your hair. “[Y/N]... I would never hurt you… or make you do anything you didn’t want to do,” he murmured. “You know that. I didn’t make you do that project with me; I didn’t make you tell me anything you didn’t want to; I never came into your house unless you asked me to. That was you, that was all you,” he whispered. “I don’t hold any more power over you than you do over me.”

 **January 4th, 2001**  
Sam was disappointed not to see you at school that first day back, wondering why you didn’t come. Even after telling him what he thought was everything, there were still some things that he didn’t know. Like that you had actually graduated a semester early.  
When he went to your house later that day, your car wasn’t there. Because not only did you graduate a semester early, but you now had a full time job that you worked. Sam didn’t know that either. But you had to pay the bills somehow, which, while you didn’t have any tuition-wise, your mother’s stay in the hospital had stacked up quite a few. 

**January 5th, 2001**  
You weren’t at school that day either. You weren’t at home that day either. Sam didn’t have a clue where you might’ve gone. It wasn’t until later that night, when he went to a diner with his brother, that he finally saw you. It wasn’t a coincidence, not like you both happened to be there at the same time eating dinner. You were working there. And very hard, Sam noted, because you hadn’t even known he was there. You were too busy running around the restaurant serving guests to notice him the way he had noticed you. But you were smiling. And brightly, too. Sam had never seen you smile as much as he did whenever you took someone’s order or brought them their food. It was the brightest smile he had ever seen. He soon realized, though, that those who smile the brightest are the ones who’ve cried the most, and that your eyes were still very dull. “Hey, Sammy, there’s a table over here,” Dean said. Sam realized he was staring at you. Dean waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello, come on,” Dean said, leading him to the opposite side of the restaurant than the one you were on.  
“One second,” Sam told him, distracted. Sam walked over to where you were, you were just about to go into the kitchen. “[Y/N],” he said, catching your attention.  
“Sam, I’m sorry, I’m working,” you rambled.  
“I see that. How come you’re here? Why haven’t you been coming to school?” Sam asked.  
You looked around, making sure you could spare a moment. “I can’t talk right now, Sam. I’m busy. I get off at ten tonight. If you come by my house, we can talk then. But I gotta work,” you told him.  
Sam got Dean to drop him off at your house a little after ten o’clock. Sam saw that your car was parked outside and he knocked on your door. You were wearing sweatpants and a flannel that was a couple sizes too big for you. “Hey, come in,” you said, opening the door wider.  
“So what was that all about?” Sam asked as soon as he walked through the door.  
“Listen, Sam… my mom is in the hospital. And insurance can’t cover it forever. Not to mention the fact that I need food… and water and electricity and a roof over my head,” you told him. “I’m working full-time at the diner until my mom… until she’s not in the hospital anymore.”  
“What about school? You’ll lose your scholarship,” Sam worried.  
“I graduated a semester early. My transcripts are intact and Cogswell has them. It just gives me more time to get more hours,” you told him.  
“What if your mom isn’t out of the hospital by the time you go to college?” Sam asked.  
“She will be,” you said coldly.  
“She might not, I mean you don’t know how long it could take for her to-”  
“Die? I do know how long. The doctors said she doesn’t have more than six months,” you spat.  
“[Y/N], I’m sorry, I had no idea…”  
“She’s not going to get better, Sam. So the only thing I can do right now is pay the bills until she isn’t in the hospital anymore. Then I can sell the house and everything I can’t take to California with me. And I won’t have to worry anymore.” You shrugged and your lip quivered. “And you don’t have to keep visiting me, there’s no reason for you to.”  
“What? Of course there is, [Y/N], you’re my friend. Shit, you’re more than my friend,” Sam argued.  
“Yeah, and I still have no fucking clue why!” you said, tears streaming down your face. “I’m damaged, I keep to myself, I push people away, I’m stupid, I’m depressed, I’m-” You stopped when you realized what you had accidentally revealed.  
“What?” Sam asked, his face turning more concerned than you had ever seen.  
  
“[Y/N], why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked. “Don’t answer that. Stupid question.”  
“I have to cover anti-depressants, too,” you mumbled.  
“[Y/N], you shouldn’t have to stay here alone,” Sam said.  
“Yeah, well, there’s nothing I can do about it,” you muttered.  
“Let me stay with you. I’ll take care of you. I’ll listen to you. Hell, I’ll make dinner and breakfast for you. But you have to _let me in_.” You looked down and bit your lip. “Come on, [Y/N], you _know_ me. You know you can trust me.”  
You couldn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to say. All you could find yourself to do was nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please keep commenting! feel free to comment your ideas or predictions! who knows? I might use them later on!


	3. Chapter 3

**January 13th, 2001**  
You’d just gotten home from working at the diner, exhausted. You dropped your bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch. “Here,” Sam said, standing over you with an aspirin and a glass of water.  
You slowly sat up and took the glass from his hand, tossing the pill into your mouth before downing the water. “Thanks,” you mumbled.  
“Do you want something to eat?” he asked, sitting down next to you.  
“No thanks,” you said. You put the empty glass on the coffee table.  
“[Y/N], I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat. I’m getting worried,” he told you.  
“It’s okay. It’s just the side effects of the anti-depressants. It’s fine,” you said.  
“It’s not healthy. Just because you’re not hungry doesn’t mean you don’t need to eat. You need to get some food in you.”  
“Not tonight, Sam, please. I get that you’re worried about me, but not tonight. I’m tired. We can talk about it in the morning.”  
“Okay.” Sam nodded. “Go put some comfy clothes on, we can watch a movie,” he suggested.  
You sighed, smiling, and got up and went to your room. You changed into some shorts and a big sweatshirt before going back to the living room where Sam was. You curled up on the couch next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Sam picked up the remote and hit play, having already set up the movie on the TV. It was Forrest Gump. As much as you wanted to stay awake to watch one of your favorite movies, you slowly drifted off, your head nestling more into Sam’s neck. Sam wrapped his arm around your waist and readjusted the two of you on the couch so that you were laying across it, half of your body resting on top of Sam’s and the other half on the couch, the back cushions preventing you from sliding off of Sam. Your hand rested on Sam’s chest and his head was against yours. Sam fell asleep not long after changing positions. 

**January 14th, 2001**  
When you woke up you were wrapped around Sam and both his arms were wound tightly around you. You gently tapped him on the chest. “Sam,” you whispered. He lifted his head suddenly, bumping his forehead with yours. You yelped out an ‘ow’ and rubbed your forehead with your hand.  
Sam grunted before looking over at you, checking to see if you were okay. He reached his hand to your temple. “Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing your temple gently. He pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Think you’ll survive?” he asked.  
You stared into his eyes, noticing how quickly your heart was beating at the closeness of Sam before muttering out a quiet, “Yes.” Sam began to lean in when you pushed up off of him and got off the couch. “I’m going to make some breakfast,” you said in a panicky tone. “Do you want something?”  
Sam stood up off of the couch and followed you into the kitchen. “No, [Y/N], I’ll make breakfast,” he insisted.  
“Sam, I’m seventeen years old, I can make my own breakfast every once in a while,” you said coldly, though you didn’t know why you had taken up that tone.  
Sam took a step back, as if you had physically punched him. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he muttered.  
When you looked back at him and saw those sad eyes, you fell somewhat limp, reaching out in front of you and using your arms on the counter to steel yourself. You sighed tiredly. “No, I’m sorry Sam. I just… It’s getting really hard to keep doing this, you know?”  
Sam nodded and began to approach you, but when you took a step back, he stopped in his tracks and held his hands up. “[Y/N], it’s okay,” he said gently.  
“No, it’s not!” you screamed, finally admitting it. “It’s not okay and it’s not going to be okay!” you yelled. Your voice suddenly lowered. “I… I’m so messed up- my medicine is barely working… I’m working my ass off to pay the bills while my mom is in the hospital and there’s nothing I can do about it,” you whimpered.  
“[Y/N], come here,” Sam said. You shook your head, angry with yourself when you let a tear fall. “Please?” he begged. No response. “I know you don’t need me the way I want you to,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone. And it doesn’t mean I don’t still want to help you.” You looked down at the ground, tightening your jaw. Your fists clenched at your sides. “I’m here for you, no matter how alone or messed up you feel.”

 **January 18th, 2001**  
Sam was at your house in the kitchen, making dinner for you for when you got home from the diner, when he heard a knock on the door. Furrowing his eyebrows, he set the pan of Hamburger Helper down on the unused stovetop to go answer the door. For some reason, he was shocked to see Dean. Sam didn’t greet his brother at the door- only stood there, frozen. “Sam, what the hell?!” Dean whisper-shouted, smacking his younger brother on the arm.  
“What?” Sam asked.  
“What do you mean ‘what’? I’ve been alone in the motel room for the past two weeks! What are you doing here, man?” Dean didn’t understand why he had to clarify to his brother why he was so worried.  
“I’m taking care of someone,” Sam said simply.  
“What, you mean that girl from the diner? There are more important things, Sammy!”  
“Not to me,” Sam mumbled. Dean shifted his stance and Sam knew what he was about to ask next. _Why?_ “She needs me, Dean,” he stated. “In ways that you could never understand.”  
“Oh yeah? Why couldn’t I understand?” Dean retorted.  
“Dean,” Sam exhaled. “She’s all alone. Her mom is sick in the hospital. She’s working a full-time job at a diner to pay all the bills. _She’s literally waiting for her mother to die_ so that she won’t have to worry about her anymore. She fucking needs me, Dean.”  
Dean sighed. “Fine. But would you at least come check in every once in a while? I do get worried about you, you know. Despite what you think.”  
“Alright, I’ll try to check-in when I can. But you can’t come here anymore. If [Y/N] sees you here- or, worse, if _dad_ finds out about her…” Sam trailed off.  
“I get it, Sammy.” Dean sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He turned around, glancing back at Sam to say, “Don’t leave me hangin’ again,” before getting back in their dad’s Impala and driving into the night. 

**February 9th, 2001**  
Once again, after a long night at work, you fell onto the couch, ready to sleep. And once again, Sam was there with an aspirin and a glass of water for you. “Thanks, Sam,” you said after gulping down the water.  
He was kneeling in front of you as you sat on the couch. “Of course. Do you want dinner?” he asked.  
“Yeah, actually,” you told him. It wasn’t often that you accepted his dinner offer. Your anti-depression medication made you not want to eat very much- that added onto the fact that you were around food all day, made even the suggestion of dinner nauseating to you. But today you eagerly accepted the offer, finding yourself very hungry.  
“Really?” he replied, shocked.  
You nodded. “Yeah, really. What’re we having?”  
Sam stood up and went to the kitchen. “Well, we have fried chicken from the Publix deli- I can heat that up. And there’s honey mustard in the fridge. And there’s some Hawaiian rolls if you want.”  
“That actually sounds so delicious right now,” you said, following him into the kitchen.  
“Alright, I’ll fix it for you.”  
“Hey, Sam?” Sam stopped what he was doing to turn and face you, his expression kind as ever. You looked down, suddenly nervous. “Thanks for taking care of me,” you said quietly. “I know I haven’t made it easy.”  
“Don’t talk like that,” Sam replied. “This,” he gestured between the two of you, “isn’t just helping you. It’s helping me, too.”  
“What do you mean?” you asked, cocking your head.  
Sam hesitated, thinking about what he said before he said it. “I like… feeling needed… I like that you make me feel normal. Taking care of you, it just… helps me get away, I guess.”  
You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you mumbled. Sam took a tentative step towards you, his eyes asking if you were okay before he took your face in his hands. You shut your eyes, trying to stop the tears that were forming in your eyes from escaping, but your face relaxed when you suddenly felt Sam’s soft lips against yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back eagerly. _To hell with it_ , you told yourself. You were done shutting everything out. Quite frankly, it had just gotten exhausting.  
When you pulled away for air, Sam’s eyes were gleaming with adoration, yet what came out of his mouth was a whispered, “I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept making it seem like I was trying to push you away… I just need you to understand what’s going on in my life right now, and I need you to respect it,” you told him.  
Sam nodded. “I will. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, anything you want, just ask.”  
“Could you, um… could you stay in my bed with me tonight?” you asked hesitantly. “Just… the nightmares, um…”  
“Of course,” Sam replied, giving you another peck on the lips. 

**February 14th, 2001**  
You had still been asleep when Sam’s alarm went off- you didn’t have to be in at the diner until noon today. The high pitched ‘beep beep beep’ that didn’t even have the courtesy to change tone pulled you from your dreamy state and you rolled over onto your other side, your back facing Sam. Sam only pulled you closer into him, your back pressed against his chest as he peppered kisses down your neck and shoulder. “Sam, at least hit the damn snooze button,” you groaned sleepily.  
He chuckled and you felt a momentary loss of contact as he turned off the alarm. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered in your ear once he returned.  
“Oh god, you’re a Valentine’s sap?” you mumbled. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to not pull that crap today,” you told him. Sam snickered. “Go get ready for school,” you said.  
“Or I could stay here and take care of you today…” Sam suggested.  
“I have work at noon, Sam.”  
“Find someone to cover your shift.”  
“No one is going to cover my shift today,” you said.  
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”  
“Oh my god, Sam, are we really playing this game?” you asked, rolling over to face him once again. The look on his face was so smug you almost wanted to hit him. Almost.  
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he changed the subject. He absentmindedly traced his thumb in circles on your hip.  
You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it- it was the only thing you could think of off the top of your head. “I love you,” you said.  
His eyes widened in shock. He certainly didn’t think you would respond with those three words. Out of all of the things you possibly could’ve said, Sam would’ve bet money that the phrase you just uttered wasn’t one of them. “Do you really?” he asked, thinking himself an idiot after doing so.  
You bit your lower lip and nodded, pulling his head to yours to kiss him. After a few moments, you had to pull yourself away. “Go to school and we can spend time together tonight, okay? I get off at nine.” Sam silently agreed, as much as he just wanted to spend the whole day with you.  
Around four o’clock that evening, while you were on break, Sam came and visited you at the diner. He slid in to the booth across from you, a grin on his face. “What’s that look for?” you asked him, one side of your mouth curling up into a smile.  
“I got you the rest of the night off,” he said smugly.  
You shook your head. “Not possible. There’s no way someone would cover a shift for me tonight- especially not so last minute,” you argued.  
“Did you even ask?” Sam retorted.  
“I’m not supposed to ask anyone to cover a shift I’ve been scheduled for unless I have a valid reason not to work it,” you defended yourself.  
“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing _I_ asked.”  
“Sam! I could get in some serious trouble with my boss!” you whispered.  
“[Y/N], would you relax? It’s half of your shift and your co-worker said it was no problem. Especially after I gave her my puppy dog eyes.”  
“The puppy eyes? That’s playing dirty, Sam,” you scolded.  
“Just get your stuff and come with me, okay?” Sam asked, giving you said puppy dog eyes.  
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” you said. You got up from the table and went to the breakroom to grab your stuff, changing into your normal clothes in the bathroom. When you got back to Sam, he threw his arm over your shoulder and walked you outside, where you saw his brother’s car. “Did you steal it or borrow it?” you asked skeptically.  
Sam removed his arm and walked around to the driver side, leaning against the roof. “If I were going to steal a car, trust me, it would not be this one,” he remarked.  
You snickered. “Fair enough,” you said, getting in the car.  
When Sam got in the driver seat he turned his head to look at you and asked, “Where do you wanna go?”  
“Seriously?! All this and you don’t even have anything planned for us to do?” you asked incredulously.  
Sam laughed. “I’m just kidding. Of course I have something planned for us. I just want to know what _you_ want to do, that’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KEEP COMMENTING Y'ALL IM IN A RUT!


	4. Chapter 4

**February 14th, 2001**  
“You’ve been quiet,” Sam said after a few minutes. “Is everything okay? Are you feeling okay?”  
“Yeah, actually,” you told him. “Yeah, I’ve been feeling pretty good, I guess.”  
“But?” Sam asked. There was always a but. And he knew that.   
“I don’t know…” you started. “Like I don’t have as much of a problem with wanting to cry myself to sleep as I used to… but I’m still depressed… I still have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning and getting motivated… It’s just a limbo feeling, you know? Like, at least when I was sad there was that solid emotion that I could grasp and identify. But I just feel kind of lost now, and I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the way I was feeling before,” you admitted.   
Sam pulled the car over and put it in park, turning his head to look at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was going on.”  
“No, Sam, it’s not your fault, really. It can be impossible to tell the difference,” you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.   
“We don’t have to do anything special today if you don’t want to,” he offered. “We could just stay home and I’ll make dinner for you and we can watch a movie.”  
You smiled and looked at him. “That sounds pretty special to me.”

**February 27th, 2001**  
Of course the day off you got from the diner would be a weekday. Meaning Sam would be at school for a good portion of it, and you’d be left alone in your thoughts. You tried not to think about it, cuddling closer to Sam before his alarm for school went off. You buried your head further into his chest, half-hoping he’d wake up so that he could give you the attention you wanted, the attention you needed. Well, you weren’t sure if he woke up, but he did tighten his hold on you, pulling you in closer. You hummed as response.   
“You awake?” Sam murmured.   
“Mhmmm,” you hummed again. Sam chuckled. “Are _you_ awake?” you teased.   
“Yeah, but I don’t know why. It’s not even five,” he mumbled.   
You inhaled peacefully and tangled your legs with his, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. “I love you,” you whispered. Neither of you had really talked about it after you had first told him that Valentine’s morning, and you hadn’t repeated it since then until just now. But it wasn’t like you avoided talking about it, you just didn’t think anything needed to be said.   
So when Sam whispered back, “I love you, too,” your heart pounded in your chest. It was the first time he had said those words to you out loud. You looked up at him, a smile in your eyes. Sam immediately acquired the same smile in his eyes, your happiness contagious. “I really do love you,” he murmured.  
“You act like I don’t believe you,” you said.   
“I know you believe me, [Y/N]. But I want you to drill the idea into your head so that you’ll never forget it.” He smiled sadly, then you understood why he said it, and why he would continue to say it. He wanted to make sure you always knew that you were loved, and that even if it was only by Sam, that that was enough.   
You pulled one of your arms back and placed your hand on Sam’s cheek, pressing your forehead against his, your noses touching. “I won’t forget it, Sam,” you breathed.   
“Good.”

**March 21st, 2001**  
Sam had had a half-day of school that day, since it was the beginning of Spring Break. It was a Wednesday, and West End High had the rest of the week and the next week off before classes started again. Sam said he had planned a little vacation for you, so you requested the next ten days of work off, much to your worry. Sam said it would be okay, that if you needed money to pay the bills, he would help out. You didn’t ask how, but you were pretty sure he didn’t want you to ask.   
You waited at home, resisting the urge to rummage through the small suitcase that Sam had packed for you. “ _Can I at least pack my own underwear?_ ” you had asked. Of course, the gentleman he was, he chuckled and nodded. But other than that you had no idea what he packed for you. You were actually even suspicious that he had bought stuff for you and packed it, seeing as most of the clothes you had were either black or made of flannel- not exactly ‘spring break vacation’-friendly.   
When the front door finally opened, you saw Sam rush in, dropping his backpack on the ground by the door and coming over to where you were laying on the couch. “You seem excited,” you said.   
He crawled on top of you, his arms on either side of your head, holding himself up. “What gave you that clue?” he said with a grin.   
“Well, are we going on this mystery spring vacation or are you just going to literally hover over me?” You lifted an eyebrow. Sam leaned down to give you a peck on the lips before he rolled off of you and went to your room to grab the suitcase he had packed for you. “You’re so stupid!” you called after him.   
“Hey, I didn’t get a full ride to Stanford so that you could call me stupid!” he remarked.   
When he came back into the living room, you looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can’t you just tell me where we’re going so I can drive us there?” you asked.   
“What, you don’t trust me with your car?”   
“Dean barely trusts you with his car,” you reminded him.  
“Yeah, well that’s different, his car is almost forty years old. It’s a classic.”  
“Who are you and what have you done with my Sam?” you joked, lifting an eyebrow. Sam shook his head and took your car keys from your grasp, hurriedly making his way out the door with your suitcase. “What about your stuff?” you asked, following him.   
After putting your stuff in the trunk Sam looked at you with a smug smirk. “Already packed.” You rolled your eyes and got in the passenger seat, Sam shutting the car door behind you.   
Sam drove for about twenty minutes before you asked, “So will you at least tell me how long of a drive it’s going to be?”   
“A few hours,” Sam said vaguely.   
“How many hours?”  
“Ummm… six?”   
“Six hours? Where the fuck are we going, Sam?” you asked playfully, just a hint of irritation in your voice so that maybe he’d tell you.   
“Somewhere warm…” You gave him a look, but he still wouldn’t budge. “Just listen to your iPod and sketch. Or take a nap. I know you need one.” You rolled your eyes and sighed, doing as he suggested.   
Six hours later, the sun was just setting, and you woke up to the salty air. Sam was driving down a wide road with palm trees on either side and you saw a few college kids walking up and down the sidewalk. You sat up and pulled your seat up again. “Sam… are we at the beach?” you asked in disbelief.   
Sam smiled. “We’re in Pensacola right now, but don’t worry, the resort we’re staying in is in a less populated area. It’ll be a little more private.”  
You smiled and looked out the window. “I’ve never been to the beach…” you said quietly.   
“Me either,” Sam said. He reached over and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.  
About forty-five minutes later, you pulled up to a small private resort. “How did you arrange this?” you asked.  
“Uh, family friend,” he said nervously. You squinted at him, but let it go. When he turned the car off, you opened the door and ran over to him as he got out, pulling him into a tight hug and burying your face in his neck. Sam chuckled and hugged you back before taking your hand and leading you into the resort. You held his hand as he checked in, looking around the nice lobby. Once he got your room keys, he led you to the room. “I’m gonna go park and get our bags. You can look around,” Sam said, giving you a smile on his way out.   
As the door closed behind him, you wandered around the room. The door led you into the main bedroom, where there was a king-size bed and dresser with a tv across from it. There was an open doorway to your right, a small kitchen. On your left there was an alcove with a washer-dryer. The back wall consisted of floor to ceiling windows of the beach, one of which was a door that led you out onto the balcony. Between the kitchen and the back wall was the bathroom, which had a large bathtub with a separate shower, and a window that allowed you to view the beach from inside the tub. “Wow,” you breathed.   
Sam got back with your stuff a few minutes later. You had been sitting on the bed watching tv, but once the door opened, you hopped up and helped Sam with your stuff. You dropped your suitcase on the floor next to the side of the bed you had claimed and as soon as Sam set down his duffel, you jumped onto his back. Sam started laughing and spun you around, trying to throw you off of him. You squealed and wrapped your arms tighter around him. “Okay, [Y/N], can’t breathe,” he gasped.   
You slid down onto the floor and sat down on the bed, gazing up at Sam. “I still can’t believe you did this,” you said.   
“As long as you don’t ask any questions about it,” he joked.   
“What does your dad do? I mean… I feel like I barely know anything about your family,” you said.   
“My dad’s just a mechanic.”  
“Then why would he be so pissed that you got into Stanford?”  
“Because it’s not the family business. Can we talk about something else? We’re on vacation.”  
“Sam, I’ve told you everything. I think I deserve some answers too,” you said.  
“[Y/N], those are the answers. My dad is a mechanic and he wants me to follow the family business. I don’t want to do that; I want to go to Stanford and be a lawyer. Is that not a good enough answer for you? Do you not trust me?” Sam asked, hurt.   
You sighed and stood up. “Of course I trust you,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry; I trust you,” you repeated, quieter, kissing him. You were still afraid of fucking up and saying something wrong that would make Sam leave. Even after everything- especially after everything.  
“No, I’m sorry. I snapped at you. You do deserve to know everything, but it just isn’t something I want to talk about on vacation. Okay?” You nodded and hugged him tight. “Hey, go take your meds and put your swimsuit on. We can go down to the beach.”  
“Don’t tell me what to do, Winchester,” you said playfully. You pulled out of his embrace and went over to your suitcase to unpack and put everything in a couple of the dresser drawers. Then you grabbed your toiletries bag and took it to the bathroom, putting your antidepressants in the cabinet behind the mirror. Sam also unpacked his things, going out onto the balcony while you changed into your bikini. You slid the door to the balcony open and stood in the doorway. “Come on, let’s go,” you said.   
Sam took his sweet time to look your body up and down. This was the most skin he’d ever seen from you. After a couple of moments, his eyes met yours, and it looked like he was close to drooling. You suddenly felt very self conscious and crossed your arms, waiting for him to answer. “Yeah, um, yeah, just let me… uh, I have to get my swim trunks on,” Sam sputtered.   
“Okay,” you said. You grabbed a big hoodie jacket that was pretty light and put it on to cover yourself. You were suddenly very nervous about going to the beach. It occurred to you that your entire body would be on display- including your various scars. _Maybe no one will notice_ , you told yourself. _But Sam will_. “Hey Sam, maybe we shouldn’t go to the beach,” you said hesitantly.   
He came out of the bathroom with a concerned look on his face. “What? Why?” You shook your head and tucked it into your shoulder, hiding your face from him. “[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked.   
“Nothing, I just… my back…” you trailed off, trying to think of a believable lie to tell him.  
Sam pulled the zipper of your jacket down and slid a hand under the fabric, pushing it off of your shoulders. You looked down and he gently turned your body so he could see your back. “Wh… wh… how did this happen?” he asked in a whisper.   
A tear escaped your eye. “I did it,” you whimpered.   
“You? ...How? ...Why?” he asked.   
“I was depressed before my mom went to the hospital…” you began. You almost said more, but you decided he could figure it out for himself.   
Sam traced over your scars gently with his fingertips. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re not doing it anymore. That’s the important thing.” Sam wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and whispered in your ear, “And it doesn’t matter that you had a moment of weakness. What matters is that you fought. You kept fighting. And you survived.”   
You leaned weakly into his touch and let your tears fall. “You must think I’m such a coward,” you choked out.   
Sam turned you around to face him. “No. Don’t you ever say that. Of course I don’t think you’re a coward. I think you’re a survivor. And you’re so beautiful. And I still love you.”   
You exhaled and turned your head, a few more tears falling from your eyes. Sam took your chin in his thumb and index finger and pulled your head up to look at him. Once your eyes met his, Sam pulled your face to his and kissed you, his other hand gently placed on your waist. His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you granted him entrance. After a few moments, you said, “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” between kisses. Sam snickered and soon went back to kissing you.   
It wasn’t long before you found yourself breathless as Sam kissed down your neck, sucking light marks into your collarbone. You moaned. “Sam, didn’t you say we’d go to the beach?” you whimpered, trying to distract yourself from how _amazing_ he was making you feel.   
“Fuck the beach, we have nine more days,” he breathed, his teeth grazing across your skin.   
You reached up and entangled one hand in Sam’s hair, the other resting on his shoulder. “Sam,” you whined, your voice unsteady.   
Sensing the shakiness of your voice, he pulled himself away from you. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he hurriedly asked.   
You nodded. “More than okay.” You reached for him and brought your lips to his once more, your other hand reaching behind you for the strings of your bikini. After pulling the bottom string loose, you did the same to the top, removing the article and throwing it on the floor. Sam didn’t even notice your actions, caught up in exploring your mouth with his own. You reached down and grabbed his hand, placing it on your ribs just underneath your now bare breasts.   
Sam’s hand travelled upwards, carefully caressing your breast. Once you let out a moan, Sam lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, his hands supporting you by the back of your thighs. Your fingers entangled themselves in Sam’s hair and you gave it a light tug as you kissed him. “Waitwaitwait,” Sam whispered in a rush. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You gave him a confused look; you thought you’d made it clear that not only were you okay with this but you _wanted_ this. “Because I’ve never…” Sam trailed off.   
“Well, if it makes you feel better, Sam, I technically haven’t either. Not with enthusiastic consent, at least. So how about we just figure it out together?” Sam nodded, moving one of his hands to support you by the small of your back. “Well, first things first, we should probably go over to the bed,” you giggled.   
Sam cracked a smile too, walking you over and setting you down gently in the middle of the bed, crawling over you. He went back to innocently kissing you for a while, until he realized something. “I don’t have any condoms.”  
“There are some in my toiletries bag,” you suggested.   
“Wait, you packed condoms?” Sam asked, shocked.   
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I had some in my toiletries bag from… and I just never bothered to take them out. Then I just blindly packed it, I guess,” you explained. Sam pecked you on the lips again before rolling off of you to grab a condom from the bathroom, where your stuff was. He placed the square of foil on the nightstand and crawled back over you. As he leaned down to kiss you, your hands reached down to his swim trunks and began to untie the strings. You felt Sam’s body tense up slightly. You looked back up at him and placed a hand on his cheek so that he’d look at you. “Hey, relax,” you said. “I love you,” you reassured him. Sam still didn’t look confident. “Are _you_ okay with this?” You needed consent from him as much as he needed it from you.   
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I guess I’m just… nervous, you know?”  
“It’s okay, Sam. I’m nervous too. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”  
Sam sighed, letting out what you could only call a small whimper. “No, I want to. Oh god, [Y/N], I want to.” His eyes grazed over your nearly naked body and he bit his lip.   
You giggled. “You’re so stupid,” you muttered.   
“I know that’s just your way of telling me you love me,” he countered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been done for quite a while, I just don't know why I never posted it. Chapter 5 in progress.


End file.
